Picture This
by Chibibun
Summary: A challenge fic with a drunk England, a little love, and a whole lot of hard work. It's America's birthday...where's England?


England has spent the previous day staring at the box. Occasionally, he would shift an object to the side or dig a little bit. But his eyes kept drifting back to the photo album in the middle. He tried to bury the album with the other contents of the box but he would just unearth it and run his fingers along the smooth cover.

England decided then that yes, he would be drinking that night. And drank he did. He drank everything in the house, including the wine that France had sent him last Christmas. England would have gone out to buy more, but he couldn't seem to locate his shoes...Oh, and he couldn't really see. His vision was blurred by the tears that told his story of love and pain and rejection.

England made no move to wipe away the tears, he didn't utter a sound. He just cried and cried.

* * *

America sat in the middle of his living room, in a sea of brightly coloured wrapping paper and gift bags and torn envelopes. He was laughing and enjoying himself and the attention. To the outside world. On the inside he was panicking. Where was England?

America enjoyed opening presents and knowing that someone thought of him wile wrapping it. He knows that not everyone went out and bought a new present. A few of them were re-wrapped gifts. Gifts from him, now coming back to him. He liked to think he had planned it out this way, but threw was no point lying to himself.

America had made his party an open house type thing, where people could come and go as they pleased. He knew that his good friends would stay at least most of the time. There was Mattie, Kiku, both the Mexicos and Italies, Germany, Spain, France, and South Korea. But the nation America had been waiting for had yet to show.

* * *

England slept through his flight. He completely missed it. Part of him said to just stay home, it wasn't worth it.

England hopped onto the next plane to Washington DC. It was worth it.

Everyone was gone, the party was over. He got presents, he had fun. So why did America feel so empty? He sat dejected in his bedroom, sorting through his gifts slowly. He had enough gift cars that he wouldn't need to pay for food for months...

So what if England never showed? He would've just been a spoil sport, anyways. America didn't need him. So why was he crying so hard?

"Al...I'm...I'm so sorry." The British lilt was unmistakable. Alfred jumped up and tackle hugged the older nation. "So so _so_ sorry." Arthur shifted so as to not damage the package in his arms.

"Where have you been? You're wicked late!" Alfred shouted trying to take the package.

"I...uhh...I was busy, sorry..." Arthur said, scowling as he remembered waking up in a puddle of rum and the killer headache he had. "Anyways, happy birthday, Al." He stuck out the gift, cursing his luck as the clocked flashed that it was 12:01. Really? Al didn't seem to notice as he tore into the paper. Arthur watched nervously. Maybe he just have just gotten something simpler...

Alfred gasped as the last of the paper fell off. He ran his fingers over the leather of the cover and binding and traced the gold lettering that proclaimed the word America. Under it was a water colour painting of the American flag bordered by lace. Alfred opened it to see that the album followed through important moments of his life. There had to be hundred of pictures. Most were of Alfred, but many showed Arthur in them too. About halfway through, Canada and the Mexicos made appearances along with other nations. The states were in it, a few newspaper clippings. It was absolutely...

"Perfect. Artie, this is...this is perfect! It must have taken you ages! How did you get these pictures! Oh, what's this?" Alfred flipped to the back cover where he saw a certificate.

"I..." This was it, Arthur's big line. He could do it! " I...I'll tear down the stars and I'll give them to you. They're not as pretty as your eyes, but it'll have to do." Arthur's face went red and he looked down at his feet.

"Artie..." Alfred's voice was suddenly very close. Arthur looked up to see the crystal clear blue eyes staring back into his green eyes. Alfred cupped Arthur's face in his hands. Arthur blinked. Next thing he knew, Alfred's eyes were getting closer. Foreheads touch, cheeks brush, lips meet.

Alfred's hands slowly traveled down to Arthur's neck, chest, hips. Arthur pulled Alfred close, kicking the door shut behind him. Alfred pushed Arthur against the door, taking control.

Sure, you couldn't say that the kiss was sweet, slow, or simple...but you had to admit, it packed a punch. Both nation's heads were light and felt miles above the Earth.

"Artie..." Alfred breathed again, nuzzling his head into Arthur's neck. "I love you." He nipped the older nation's neck lightly.

"I love you too, bloody git," Arthur said, but he chuckled. His mouth found Alfred's and Alfred pulled Arthur to the bed. They fell on it in a tangled mess of limbs, Arthur reaching out to push the large stuffed rabbit off the bed.

* * *

**A/N: **So, this was part of a challenge set up by **_bostonian-ftw_**. The rules were that you had to write a Fourth Of The July fic that includes a sad, drunk, pathetic England. Everyone should go to her page and read hers and read the third participant on this, **_kimmyshhhh_**. Make sure to review and send me love. I guess you can send them love too, but mine is obviously the best. xD

**A/N2:** Why yes, I did manage to put three ideas into this. The challenge, an idea that's been floating in my mind for awhile, and a songfic. The song was "Tear This Down" by The Years Gone By. WHO I DON'T OWN, BTDUBBS.


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